


if they asked me

by binchmarner



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Engagement, Fluff, M/M, nhl debut, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binchmarner/pseuds/binchmarner
Summary: While dancing to their song, Conor tells Cale a secret.
Relationships: Cale Makar/Conor Timmins
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	if they asked me

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to true, glazedsun, and chuck for looking this over! 
> 
> the title of the story comes from Harry Connick Jr.'s song [I Could Write a Book.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1l93B5EI1L8)

It’s stupid late after an amazing win over the Flames and Conor’s fucking NHL debut. Conor and Cale pour into Sam’s house–– Sam, who had been more than willing to let young love blossom, (as if Cale and Conor are literally not a half year younger than he is) let Conor stay in the guest room with Cale. 

“That was––”

“Shh!” Cale whispers. He’s not drunk, he hadn’t even touched alcohol at the bar, what with EJ handing him Shirley Temple after Shirley Temple, stating that they _have to take care of the rookie_, never mind Conor cracking up each time.

“_Insane_,” Conor whispers back, grinning as he squeezes Cale’s hand. “I’m so glad you got to play in my debut with me.”

“Hey,” Cale says, kissing under Conor’s jaw. “You were awesome. You _are_ awesome. You deserved tonight’s win.”

“Shut up.” Conor flushes, his face pink in the glow of the yellow light. “C’mon. I need water, come to the kitchen with me.”

“You had one beer. You already drunk?” Cale teases.

“Not used to the altitude,” Conor reminds him. “Don’t wanna wake up with a hangover.”

Which, fair. 

They’ve been working around the distance since meeting at the draft, becoming a sure thing at World Juniors, and now they’re on the same team. Who knows for how long, but hopefully for a while. It’s nice to be close to Conor, close in a way that doesn’t involve a phone screen because Conor couldn’t look at bright lights with his concussion.

Cale looks at Conor and smiles, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Conor hums, turning around and kissing him for a moment before he finishes pouring two glasses of water. He sets the pitcher down on the counter, handing Cale a glass. 

Cale holds his glass up. “A toast. To your long, wonderful career with the Avalanche.”

“And yours,” Conor grins, clinking their glasses together. 

They drink in a companionable silence, before Cale sets his glass down.

“Hmm?” Conor hums. 

“Dance with me,” Cale says. There’s enough space in the kitchen to move around and Tornade is in bed with his parents, so they’re not going to wake anyone up if they decide to softly put on some music.

“There’s no music,” Conor points out, as if reading Cale’s mind. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna sing.”

“Fuck you, my singing voice is amazing.”

“Yes, dear.” Conor chuckles.

Cale puts on a song from _When Harry Met Sally_, a movie they’ve watched many times over, ever since Conor let slip that the first time his mom met his dad’s parents they watched _When Harry Met Sally_ all the way through–– including the famous diner scene.

Conor smiles, shaking his head. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“We don’t have enough time to continue our tradition tonight, so I’m doing the next best thing.” Cale grins, holding out his hand. “C’mon. Just one dance?”

Conor takes his hand and pulls him close, one arm around his waist and one arm out to the side, holding Cale’s hand as they sway in time to the beat. They’re still in their suits from the game, but they’re tired and giggling, drunk on adrenaline and if Cale’s being honest, he could probably imagine this as their first dance.

If… they get married. 

If one of them asks.

They’ve only been together for two years–– it’s not been a terribly long time, but Cale looks up at Conor, at how his eyes have shut as he sways to the beat, he can’t help but think that if Conor asked, he’d say yes. 

Conor hums along with Harry Connick Jr., spinning them around gently under the glow of the kitchen lights. “You think so loud, Makar. Wanna share?”

“Got a lot to think about,” Cale says, smiling in spite of himself. 

“Yeah?” Conor asks. “What about?”

“_The simple secret of the plot, is just to tell you that I love you a lot_,” Cale paraphrases, singing along with the tune. The song has a feeling of home, of a not-so-secret happiness for the two of them. It’s familiar, and honestly, if Cale were more confident in his voice, he’d just have sung it to Conor himself. 

“Yeah? You gonna tell everyone you love me?” Conor asks, the apples of his cheeks red. He pulls Cale closer to him, so Cale has to tilt his head up to talk to him. 

“Always. Scream it from the rooftops if you let me,” Cale says, his voice maybe too genuine for one in the morning.

Conor’s smile is one he hasn’t seen before, one Cale wants to figure out what he did to make the smile happen so he can get Conor to smile at him like that over and over again. “Yeah? You would?”

“I can’t really hide it, nor do I think I would want to,” Cale shrugs, pressing a kiss to the corner of Conor’s mouth. “You’re a sure thing for me, Con.”

“You know I’m gonna ask you to marry me one day, right?” Conor says. “When I get a contract and I can buy you a ring and––”

Cale presses his lips against his, smiling. “You can’t just pre-propose to me while we’re dancing to our song, that’s not how that goes. You’re gonna make me cry.”

“No? Because I think I just did,” Conor says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m gonna marry you one day. Make you Mister Cale Timmins.”

And Conor doesn’t sound like he’s joking. He doesn’t sound like that at all, he sounds… serious, and genuine, and Cale’s going for broke before he can tamper down his thoughts.

“I’d be happy with a Ring Pop,” Cale says, his voice wavering. He’s being truthful too. He doesn’t need anything fancy, he just wants a band and Conor. 

“I’ll go out and get you something better than a Ring Pop. I don’t want to wait,” Conor says, smiling. He spins them around, holding Cale close as Cale laughs wetly.

“You’re an absolute sap,” Cale says, leaning in to kiss him. 

Kissing Conor, Cale decides, is like drinking a cup of hot chocolate after playing in the snow, or playing a game of hockey outdoors. He feels warm all over, in a way he’d never ever thought a person could ever make him feel.

He feels loved.

“Is that a yes?” Conor mumbles against Cale’s lips. Cale laughs, smiling against Conor’s lips. 

“Yeah, god. Yeah. I’ll marry you. Pre-marry you, whatever,” Cale says, grinning. Conor smiles, cupping Cale’s cheek and wiping a tear away. 

“I love you,” Conor says. By this time, the song has repeated, and repeated, and repeated, but neither of them can find it in them to care. “God, we’re getting married.”

“We’re getting married, oh my god,” Cale says, laughing. He’s a little giddy, a little high on exhaustion. 

Conor kisses Cale’s forehead as the song plays out, grabbing his hand as the last flourish plays. 

They’ve truly made two lovers of friends.


End file.
